The Great Outdoors

Now that I've determined that Linus can't get out of the yard, my life is much easier.  Unfortunately, neither he nor Lucy likes to be outside.  But the weather is very temperate, so I don't feel one bit guilty about exiling them to the shady, but muddy yard.  I now understand, though, why they call it a "mud room."  I purloined some of The Daddler's baby personal cleansing wipes for the filthy paws.  Linus, being a male, covers up his poop, so he gets much dirtier than Lucy, who shits and gits.  Funny, it's kinda inverse to humans.  Think about it.  It's the whole toilet seat conundrum. Backwards.

I'm making progress, and The D seems to be adjusting to the idea of another dog.  I'm still not sure, but I'm comforted by the fact that I'm just fostering bubba.  Kinda like cohabitation.  Or "shacking up" to a traditional lady.  It should be noted that I consider myself to be one, in spite of my sometimes unladylike language.

Actually, I'm just pragmatic.  After the debacle of moving, a year ago, I think moving in with a man would be paramount to marrying him.  And that's not counting what The Daddler and Kiddo would think.  Losing my alimony.  Dealing with difficult stepkids.  But then, there's employer-sponsored health insurance to consider.  I feel a spreadsheet coming on.  Well, actually, it's not an issue for me right now.  Still.  Lots to think about.

In the meantime, I have a fun, paying gig this week.  I get to be an interviewer for a focus group.  I get all of $10/hour for two whole days.  Wonder if I'll get an apple pie or two?  That was my one and only experience with this company.  Don't worry.  They're legit.

Getting paid to talk!  I can't think of anything better!  I'll have to practice modulating my voice.  Enunciating.  Slowing down.  Toning down the southern accent.  Maybe I'll channel Phoebe Finebottom, my British friend.

Better run.  Dogs are barking...